Poem 4

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A Brown Pelican

I happened to observe a pelicanon a pylon consume another bird. It was just a small thing. From my windowI witnessed all the horrors of nature.‘How often am I the tiny bird trap’din the gullet of a much larger beast?’I ponder’d this thought, but it was hollow,As the question itself was incorrect.

The pelican and I acknowledge this,holding eye contact, I sip my coffee.His wings flap, he does not leave the pylon,he stares at my window. ‘He sees my soul.’I assume it’s a he, I could be wrong,but now I am late for work, so I leavethe beast alone to finish up his meal.I forget about him not long after.

When I return home that evening he’s gone.I hardly notice the empty pylon.I drink my final coffee, I watch theevening news that isn’t quite news at all.It isn’t until I’m in bed that nightthat I ponder the large brown pelican,resting on a beam, eating a brother.And I have nightmares. Such tragic nightmares.

I am soaring above cloud and city,far below me are crystal blue watersout of which jump endless arrays of fish.A beastial hunger growls from my gizzard.I lower myself and I spot my prey.My beak clamps down on my own brother.I swallow and feel him thrash in my throat.I ask: How often am I the pelican?